


Exceptional

by squilf



Category: Bad Education (UK TV)
Genre: M/M, Missing Scenes, because Mitchell and Rem Dogg is A Thing okay
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-10-28
Updated: 2013-10-28
Packaged: 2017-12-30 17:15:18
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,431
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1021300
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/squilf/pseuds/squilf
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Mitchell is maybe a little bit in love with Rem Dogg. </p>
<p>Shit.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Exceptional

**Author's Note:**

> Because I haven't been able to find any fics about these two, and they really deserve it. I can't be the only one who ships them... can I? *Stares out into endless, silent void.*
> 
> The working title for this fic was "Chavs in Love".

**1x06 – Politics**

Everything goes a bit shit after Gulliver snogs Alfie in front of everyone. Chantelle is crying into Stephen, Alfie is crying into Joe, Jing has mysteriously disappeared (and so has David Milbank, come to think of it), and Fraser is curled up in a corner somewhere, quietly muttering rap lyrics to himself.

“Well,” says Rem Dogg, as Alfie’s screechy egg metaphor song comes to a close, “That killed the party.”

Mitchell looks at him.

“You wanna get pissed?”

“I thought you’d never ask.”

 

“… An’ then there’s mosaicism, right, an’ that’s when genetic recombination occurs in mitosis ‘stead of meiosis, an’ that’s called somatic, what basically means body, an’ that’s why some people ‘ave different colour eyes, like David Bowie. It’s a mutation, one tiny bit of DNA what makes everything different. An exception to all them rules. You get me?”

Rem Dogg laughs, takes another swig of punch, drops it.

“Mate, I don’t. I don’t get you _at all_.”

Mitchell leans forwards, wipes the moisture off Rem Dogg’s lower lip with his thumb. He keeps his hand there. He likes the feel of it. He likes Rem Dogg so fucking much.

“Right, so there’s chimerism, an’ mosaicism, an’ –”

“Nah, not that. I mean you. I don’t get _you_. You act all tough an’ stupid an’ funny, an’ I like that, but sometimes I see you’re smart an’ nice an’, I dunno, man, you’re diff– differ– not the same, an’ I like that too, an’ it don’t make no sense.”

Mitchell puts his other hand on Rem Dogg’s cheek, holds his face, their foreheads nearly bumping together.

“ _You_ don’t make sense,” he says, almost angry, “You’re my best mate. Why’d you ‘ave to go an’ be so stupid an’ perfect and make me fall in love with you? You fucking – fuck.”

“Hang on,” says Rem Dogg, holding onto Mitchell’s arms as if to steady himself, “D’you hate me or love me?”

“How drunk is you?”

“About… ten.”

“Is you gonna remember any of tonight?”

“Er… ten?”

“Good,” says Mitchell, and closes the distance between them.

He kisses Rem Dogg, all wet and messy and hard, and it feels like drowning and gasping for air at the same time. He holds onto him, pushes him back, desperate, like it’s his last chance to touch him. And yeah, it might be a drunk snog at a party, but it feels fucking amazing, much better than kissing girls, than kissing _anyone_ , and he never wants to stop. But he does, and Rem Dogg just stares at him, breaths heavy, and murmurs, “Mitchell…”, and Mitchell can’t deal with it, with the fact he can’t ever do that again, because this is _Rem Dogg_ , shit, what is he doing, so he lets go of him and staggers away, and fuck, now he has a boner, he _hates_ Rem Dogg.

 

When they see each other on Monday morning, they don’t talk about it.

They never talk about it.

 

 

**2x01 – Swimming Gala**

Mitchell groans.

“Stop bein’ such a pussy.”

Mitchell groans louder.

“Can you stop doin’ that when your face is so close to my cock?”

Mitchell’s lying on a bench in the changing rooms, his head on Rem Dogg’s lap. Rem Dogg’s holding an icepack to his forehead, because Mitchell is an idiot and Alfie threw a brick at Mitchell and Mitchell is now concussed and did he mention Mitchell is an idiot?

“Get your mind outta the gutter,” says Mitchell.

“S’hard when I’m with you.”

Mitchell grins, looks up at him, upside-down.

“Is it hard?”

Rem Dogg shoves the icepack in his face.

“Shut up.”

“Whatever, you was well worried about me.”

“Yeah, I was worried Mr Wickers didn’t quite kill ya and I’d have to finish you off meself. That’s why I came so quick.”

“I heard you always come quick.”

Rem Dogg brandishes the icepack at him.

“Do you want me to stick this where the sun don’t shine?”

“God, you could ask me out first.”

“You wish.”

Thing is, Mitchell kind of does. Rem Dogg doesn’t say anything, just holds Mitchell’s head in his hands, fingers in his hair. Mitchell shuts his eyes, runs a hand over his face, breathes. It’s nice. He’s missed Rem Dogg. Yeah, he’s been boasting about Malaga, about the booze and the girls and the parties, but the truth is, he’s come back from the holidays with nothing but a stupid tattoo and a few snogs and his parents getting a divorce, and he’s feeling pretty fucking lonely right now. So he drops his hand, lets his fingers brush against Rem Dogg’s, because sometimes he doesn’t have to say anything for Rem Dogg to know.

“You’re a right soppy git,” Rem Dogg says.

Mitchell just hums, quiet and comfortable and tired. He’d like to sleep like this, he thinks, just knowing that Rem Dogg’s there. It feels safe.

“Mitchell, are you in – oh, am I _interrupting_?”

Mitchell sighs, sits up, puts some space in between him and Rem Dogg.

“How ‘bout _sorry for doin’ your head in, Mitchell_?”

Alfie huffs over, looking as ridiculous and self-righteous as ever, the rest of the class trailing behind him.

“It was your fault! You were asking for it!”

“That’s what rapists say,” says Rem Dogg.

“I’m not a rapist! And if I was, I wouldn’t rape _you_.”

Rem Dogg pats Mitchell’s knee.

“If you don’t match up to even _sir’s_ standards, I reckon you’re gonna die a virgin.”

“If you don’t stop touchin’ me, I reckon you’re gonna die.”

“Looks like you two were doing a lot of touching earlier,” Alfie says, raising his eyebrows.

“Hashtag awks,” says Stephen, and stretches, lifting his leg over his head.

“Stop doing that,” says Alfie.

“That’s what your victims say,” says Rem Dogg, “When you rape them.”

 

 

**2x02 – The American**

“Hey Mitchell,” says Joe, when he and Rem Dogg traipse in late for class, as usual, “What came first, the chicken or the egg?”

“What are you on about?”

“The egg,” says Joe, “Though, to be fair, it was his first time.”

“That’s a shit joke,” says Mitchell.

“Oh, I thought you’d like it. I mean, you should know all about cradlesnatching.”

Rem Dogg stops in his tracks.

“What?”

Mitchell feels his stomach drop.

“Shut it.”

“Oh, didn’t you hear?” says Joe, clearly enjoying himself, “Mitchell got with Stacey Phillips.”

“I will kill you.”

“Oh my God,” says Stephen, “I swear she’s like twelve.”

“I lost my virginity before I was twelve,” Chantelle comments.

“She’s thirteen,” Mitchell says sullenly, “And we ain’t all born to suck cock, Chantelle.”

“Speak for yourself,” says Stephen.

“I was pissed, alright?” says Mitchell, “I didn’t mean to.”

“Yeah,” says Rem Dogg, “’Cause snogging someone when you’re pissed don’t mean anything to you.”

He runs over Mitchell’s foot on his way to his desk.

 

The rest of week is painfully awkward. In that time, Alfie gets forced to teach 2J and keeps complaining how he wishes everything was the way it was before. Mitchell knows the feeling.

 

“Now,” says Mr Schwimmer, “Who knows anything about good ol’ William Shakespeare?”

He puts on an English accent when he says Shakespeare’s name. Alfie would have hated it.

“He was an English poet and playwright,” says Jing, “Widely regarded as the greatest writer in the English language.”

“Correctamundo! Does anyone know what he wrote? Apart from Little Miss Wikipedia over here, that is? Anyone…? Joe?”

“Romeo and Juliet?” Joe says tentatively, even though they’ve been studying it in English class all term.

“Fantastic! One of my favourite plays. I actually played Romeo in a production of it back home. You guys know what it’s about?”

“’Ere,” Rem Dogg pipes up, “Ain’t it about a girl who finks a boy loves ‘er, then he fucks everythin’ up an’ they all end up dead ‘cause he was such a twat?”

Mr Schwimmer blinks.

“Something like that.”

“It’s so romantic,” says Stephen, “Come on, it has _Leo DiCaprio_!”

“Funny enough, I met him –” Mr Schwimmer starts, but Rem Dogg interrupts him.

“It ain’t romantic! She’s twelve and he’s a prick. Reminds me of Mitchell an’ his new girl.”

There’s a chorus of laughter from the rest of the class. Mitchell turns round in his seat to face Rem Dogg.

“She ain’t my girl.”

“Ya know,” says Rem Dogg, “I think Juliet woulda been better off if she never kissed Romeo at that party in the first place.”

“Yeah, well maybe he’d have been better off if he’d never seen her, ‘cause she was so beautiful he didn’t have no choice, he couldn’t resist her. I reckon the stupidest thing he did was fallin’ in love with someone he couldn’t never have.”

“If he really loved her then he coulda shown it better, ‘stead of going and killing Tybalt.”

“He didn’t mean to! It just happened!”

“Oh, like kissing Juliet just happened? I wonder how many other girls just happened, how many actually meant anythin’.”

“Juliet is different. She’s an exception.”

“Wow,” says Mr Schwimmer, “You know, I have never seen anyone get so passionate about Shakespeare before! Great stuff, guys.”

Mitchell turns back in his seat, crosses his arms, bites the inside of his mouth to keep him from screaming.

 

When the ambulance eventually comes, Mitchell is still laughing. It’s been a bit of a shit week, but Alfie accidentally shooting Joe in the arse with an antique pistol has definitely brightened things up.

“Look,” Mitchell says, holding his phone out to Rem Dogg, “I put all these on facebook.”

Rem Dogg laughs, scrolling through the pictures of Alfie and Jing trying and failing to do first aid.

“Aw, man, we are never gonna let him live this down.”

“Never.”

Mitchell goes to take his phone back but then his fingers brush against Rem Dogg’s and he freezes, almost holding his hand.

“What are you doing?” says Rem Dogg.

“I dunno. I never do, really. That’s probably why I fuck everything up.”

Rem Dogg closes his hand over Mitchell’s.

“You don’t.”

If Mitchell wasn’t such a pussy, he would kiss him. But he’s scared and he’s stupid so he just smiles and says, “You wanna see if we can shoot cats with Mr Schwimmer’s guns?”

Rem Dogg grins.

“Bring it.”

 

(And yeah, everything’s alright now, but Mitchell still locks Joe in a cupboard as payback.)

 

 

**2x03 – Funeral**

“It’s not funny, Mitchell!”

Mitchell doesn’t stop laughing.

“I’m serious!” Rem Dogg whines, “Stop it!”

“You’ve got bird shit on your wang and you expect me not to laugh?”

“I expect you to help me clean it off.”

“Are you joshing?”

“I don’t have any other trousers with me!”

Mitchell bursts into laughter all over again.

“Mitchell. I am going to the toilets and you are comin’ with me.”

“We ain’t gay, mate.”

“Fucking tell me about it,” Rem Dogg mutters, heading over to the toilets.

Mitchell thinks about it for about two seconds, then hurries after him.

“I’m gonna have to take ‘em off, you know,” says Rem Dogg as Mitchell holds the door open for him.

“Huh?”

“My trousers.”

“Lucky we’re alone in ‘ere.”

“Oh yeah?” says Rem Dogg, and gives him a significant look.

Mitchell feels incredibly awkward. Then Rem Dogg unbuttons his trousers, and, yeah, this is worse.

“Do you mind?” says Rem Dogg.

Mitchell realises he’s staring and turns around to face the wall as quick as he can. He tries to think of something to say. Nothing comes.

“Wow,” says Rem Dogg, “All I ‘ave to do is get my clothes off and you shut right up. I oughta do it more often.”

“I’d need gaffa tape an’ a cupboard to shut _you_ up.”

“You kinky fuck.”

Mitchell gulps.

“You can turn round now.”

Mitchell does, and is promptly hit in the face with a pair of trousers.

“I ain’t cleaning these!” he says, holding them at arm’s length and doing his best to look at anything but Rem Dogg.

“What did you think you was doin’ here? Moral support? I can’t reach the sink, so you bloody better clean ‘em.”

Mitchell groans, shoves the trousers in a sink and turns the taps on.

“You owe me for this,” he says, attacking the stain with a bar of soap.

“Shut up and scrub, bitch.”

Mitchell flicks water at him, and no, he did not just see Rem Dogg’s legs, or his underwear, he did not see _anything at all_.

“I’m not your bitch,” Mitchell says.

“No, but your mum is.”

Mitchell chucks the trousers at him.

“There, clean.”

“They’re wet.”

“So’s your mum.”

Rem Dogg throws the trousers back.

“Dry them.”

Mitchell throws them back.

“Dry ‘em yourself.”

“If I can’t reach the sink d’you think I can reach the hand dryer?” says Rem Dogg, throwing his trousers at Mitchell again.

“That’s it,” says Mitchell, and starts hitting Rem Dogg over the head with them, which is effective for all of five seconds, until Rem Dogg grabs hold of one of the legs and _pulls_ , and his wheelchair rolls forwards and crashes into Mitchell and he somehow ends up in Rem Dogg’s lap, his back against the wall, panting.

Mitchell doesn’t think he’s ever been more terrified, or inappropriately turned on.

It is, of course, at that moment that Stephen chooses to walk in.

“Oh my God!” he shrieks, “Oh my God. Oh. My. _God_.”

“No,” says Mitchell, “No, it ain’t –”

“Chantelle owes me twenty quid,” Stephen says gleefully, prancing out of the door, “I’ll leave you two to it.”

“ _Great_ ,” Mitchell says, tipping his head back against the wall, “Now he thinks we’re gay.”

“Where’d he get that idea?” says Rem Dogg, looking pointedly at Mitchell’s crotch.

Mitchell really hates Rem Dogg.

 

“Oi, John Barrowman!”

“Yes, Lee Nelson?”

Stephen raises an eyebrow, in a _I’m about to go home and watch Moulin Rouge what is more worthy of my time than that pray tell_ kind of a way. Mitchell steps closer, lowers his voice.

“If you tell anyone, Rem Dogg won’t be the only one in a wheelchair.”

Stephen rolls his eyes.

“You can be as macho as you like, babes, but you and I both know you take it up the arse.”

Mitchell grabs him by the lapels and shoves him against the school gates.

“Who says we ain’t waitin’ till we’re ready, you insensitive prick?”

“ _Per-lease_. You’re as good a model of abstinence as Satine and Christian from _Moulin Rouge_.”

Mitchell doesn’t understand anything that’s just come out of Stephen’s mouth.

“Don’t think I won’t kneecap you,” he says, because you can’t go wrong with a good threat.

Stephen holds up his hands.

“Babes, chillax. I won’t out you guys. Not that everyone doesn’t have their suspicions anyway.”

“Oh. Uh, cheers.”

Mitchell’s so surprised, he lets go. Stephen squeezes his upper arms.

“Ooh, lovely,” he says, giggling, “Tell Rem Dogg I’m well jel.”

“Fuck off.”

Stephen flounces off with a grin.

“What did he want?” asks Rem Dogg, suddenly appearing at Mitchell’s side.

“To find out if yer dad’s a prostitute, well as your mum.”

Rem Dogg punches him in the side.

“What did you say about us?”

“You’re a blushing virgin so we’re takin’ it slow.”

“Yeah. ‘Cause that would happen.”

The look Rem Dogg gives Mitchell seriously does things to him.

 

 

**2x04 – Valentine’s Day**

“So,” says Mitchell, steering Rem Dogg’s chair alongside Joe on their way to class, “You gonna send Ally a card then, Murs?”

“What’s it to you?”

“Nothin’. Just thought the RSPCA might wanna know, I thought it was illegal to get it on with a walrus.”

“Alison is not a walrus.”

“Who said anything about Ally?”

Rem Dogg bursts into laughter, which is like, Mitchell’s favourite thing to see.

“You’re just jealous ‘cause no-one wants _you_ to be their Valentine,” says Joe.

“Yeah right,” Mitchell scoffs, “’Cause _you_ got a card.”

Joe smiles smugly.

“I did actually. From Alison.”

“What?”

Joe reaches into his pocket and produces a small card. It reads, _Joe, Happy V-Day, A x_. Mitchell reckons that if Alfie ever actually marked their homework – or even set any, for that matter – Joe might have realised that the card’s not from Ally.

“You know, maybe you ought to give me that,” says Joe, nodding to Mitchell’s _vagitarian_ t-shirt.

“He can’t,” says Rem Dogg, “It ain’t his, it’s his sister’s.”

If anyone else said that, Mitchell would have thumped them. Rem Dogg knows that. It’s why he’s laughing so hard. And fuck, Mitchell still likes seeing him laugh, even when he’s laughing at him. Pretty bastard.

“You know,” says Rem Dogg, “I think you’re the only one in our class who hasn’t got a card.”

All morning, everyone’s been giggling over their Valentine’s cards. Chantelle has a heap from various admirers, Alfie opened one that made him blush so three guesses who that was from, and Mitchell’s pretty sure that the envelope on Stephen’s desk marked _Glee_ and Grayson’s half-unbuttoned shirt are linked in ways he really doesn’t want to think about.

“You mean _you_ got one?” says Mitchell.

“Duh,” says Rem Dogg, “Didn’t ya notice I’m well fit?”

“I don’t fink anyone notices somethin’ that isn’t there.”

“Oh, you mean like your dick?”

“Or your dad,” Joe adds.

Mitchell halts suddenly. He and Rem Dogg both stare at him.

“Sorry alright, I just don’t like being your third wheel,” says Joe, “I’m going to be getting enough of that tonight. Alfie wants me to cook for him and Gulliver.”

“But they ain’t together, is they?” says Mitchell.

“Nah, only in his dreams,” Rem Dogg adds.

Joe frowns.

“Neither are you guys.”

There’s a pause. Then Mitchell pushes Rem Dogg’s chair on and says, “Anyway, show us your card. If it exists.”

Rem Dogg waves a scrap of paper in the air, and Joe takes it.

“Not much of a card, is it?” Mitchell comments.

“ _You’re an exception to all my rules_ ,” Joe reads.

“Wow,” says Mitchell, with biting sarcasm, “And they say romance is dead.”

“Do you know who it’s from?” Joe asks, giving it back.

Rem Dogg shrugs.

“There’s so many ladies gagging for a piece of this, man. I dunno. I know who I want it to be.”

“Justin Bieber’s taken, mate,” says Mitchell.

“Just ‘cause I’m in a wheelchair don’t mean I can’t take ya.”

“Just ‘cause I like you don’t mean I can’t push ya down the stairs.”

Mitchell notices then that Joe’s grinning. Just to himself, like he knows something.

“What are you smilin’ at?”

“Alfie owes me twenty quid.”

“We really didn’t need to know ‘bout your career as a rent boy,” says Rem Dogg.

Joe doesn’t stop smiling. He smiles all the way to class and he smiles all the way through class and at the end of the day when Mitchell demands to know just what he’s smiling about he just says, “You ever heard of protesting too much?”

 

At home, Mitchell finds a note in his schoolbag. It says, _you’re exceptional_. He tucks it under his pillow and tells himself he’s an idiot.

 

 

**2x05 – Drugs**

“That India’s fit,” Mitchell comments at the end of their drug education class.

“Kinda weird though,” says Rem Dogg.

“Yeah,” says Joe, “Like when she was being all scary and said drugs made you snog a guy you see every day.”

“I don’t fink Rem Dogg needs drugs to make him snog a dude,” Mitchell says, laughing.

“Like you can talk,” Rem Dogg mutters under his breath.

“If Liam Brown taught me anything, it’s that if you get off with a guy at a party, you never want to see him again,” says Stephen, “But every day? Totes awks, can you imagine?”

“I don’t know if all of us have to,” Joe says with a smirk.

He and Stephen exchange knowing glances. Mitchell smacks them both upside the head.

 

 

**2x06 – Fundraiser**

“I’m fucking freezing,” Rem Dogg says, for about the twentieth time.

“I ain’t sharing body heat in your passenger seat,” Mitchell says.

“That’s not what your mum said last night.”

Mitchell sighs, grabs Rem Dogg’s baseball cap and swaps it for his beanie.

“You look like a 90s rapper,” says Rem Dogg, and Mitchell laughs, turning the cap round backwards.

“You look adorable,” he says, because, well, he does.

“I’m not a fucking kitten.”

“’Course not, darlin’.”

“Call me that again an’ I will shove this hat so far up –”

“Shut up, you love it.”

Jing clears her throat.

“Well?” she says expectantly.

“Hmm?” says Mitchell, turning around.

Jing huffs out a breath.

“Maybe if you stopped flirting for one minute you might actually pay attention to my plan to save the school.”

“That ain’t flirtin’,” Mitchell says.

The entire room gives him a _look_. Mitchell glares back at them.

“What?”

 

“You fink this is really gonna save the school?” Mitchell asks Rem Dogg, fiddling with one of the bb guns from his dad’s stall.

“You think we’ll get _twenty grand_ outta a fair? Come on. Wickers is only doin’ it for a chance to get on Gulliver. That’s never gonna happen neither.”

“It did at that party.”

“I thought snogging when you’re pissed didn’t count?”

Mitchell examines the bb gun very carefully.

“It might, sometimes.”

“Yeah?”

Mitchell shrugs, doesn’t meet his eyes.

“I guess it don’t matter anyway. If this don’t work, we’ll still be together, right? I mean, all of us, at St Ed’s?”

“I guess. Probably won’t be in the same class, though. Probably won’t see each other much.”

Mitchell looks up.

“But _we_ will, won’t we?”

“Yeah, ‘til I find someone hotter to push my wheelchair.”

“That’s never gonna happen.”

Rem Dogg smiles, and it would be so easy to kiss him, there behind the stalls, where no one’s looking, where no one would know but them.

“Don’t give me that look,” says Mitchell, “You know I’m hot.”

“You’re…” Rem Dogg narrows his eyes, as if he’s trying to think of the right word, “Exceptional.”

Mitchell drops the bb gun.

“What?”

“It ain’t that surprising I know a big word, is it?”

Mitchell swallows, tries to process what just happened.

“You’re fucking with me.”

“I can spell it an’ everything. Only wrote it down once, though.”

“Are you saying…”

“Ain’t you meant to be smart?”

“You mean…”

“ _Jesus_ , Mitchell. I’ve only been fucking throwing myself at you all term.”

Mitchell blinks.

“You… what?”

“I thought you wasn’t interested, or whatever.”

“I am,” Mitchell says quickly.

“You are _such_ an idiot,” says Rem Dogg, grabs Mitchell’s hand and drags him closer.

“What are you –”

“Shut up.”

And then Rem Dogg’s hands are on his neck and he’s tilting his face up to Mitchell’s and –

“Rem Dogg, Alfie’s looking for you, when you’re _quite_ ready.”

Jing looks at them pointedly, clipboard in hand. Mitchell glares at her.

“Are you bloody kidding me? Five minutes. Just – just five minutes, alright?”

“Is that all it takes?” Jing asks, looking him up and down dismissively.

“I’m going, I’m going,” Rem Dogg says, letting go of Mitchell.

Mitchell sighs, straightening up.

“You’ll find me later, right?”

Rem Dogg laughs.

“Oh, you want me bad, don’t you?”

“Fuck you,” Mitchell says, because Jing’s there and he can’t say _yeah, I really fucking do_.

“I ain’t that kinda girl,” says Rem Dogg, turning to leave.

“You so are.”

Rem Dogg gives him the finger, says, “Wouldn’t you like to know.”

And Mitchell breaks into a smile, because he can’t even be annoyed with Alfie when he likes Rem Dogg and Rem Dogg likes him back.

 

In the end, they do save Abbey Grove (because by some act of God, someone out there wants to do freaky things to their history teacher, which no one is quite prepared to think about right now), and everyone’s celebrating, happy and surprised and confused all at once. And Mitchell’s happy, just messing around with Fraser’s weird bandmates, but he really, really wants to drag Rem Dogg into an empty classroom and snog him.

“Is it ‘later’ yet?” he asks, even though Rem Dogg is wearing one of the Slipknot masks and looks like a serial killer out of a bad horror flick.

Rem Dogg pushes the mask up onto his head.

“Huh?”

Mitchell’s done with not telling the truth, so he just says, “I want to kiss you.”

“Then kiss me,” Rem Dogg says, like it’s the most obvious thing in the world.

Mitchell looks around. People are milling around, their teachers, their classmates.

“In front of everyone? You… don’t mind ‘em knowing?”

“It’ll break a lot of hearts, I know, but they’ll ‘ave to find out I’m off the market sometime.”

“What about my fanbase?”

“You mean your mum?”

Mitchell smiles despite himself.

“That oughta piss me off, but it just makes me wanna kiss you more.”

“I’ll take the mick more often then.”

“Stop talking, you twat,” Mitchell says, and kisses him.

The angle’s all wrong and their teeth clack together and there’s kids wolfwhistling, but he really can’t give a shit. Of course, there’s a part of him that wants to grab a bb gun, yell, “You want some?” and run after them. But that would mean he would have to stop kissing Rem Dogg, and that’s not something he can do right now. Because kissing him is kind of amazing, and God, why haven’t they been doing this all term, all _year_ even. It’s like Mitchell remembers it, clumsy and awkward, but without the rush, because they’ve got all the time in the world, they’ve got hours and hours to just do this, and maybe other stuff too, but Mitchell’s not thinking about that now – well, not much anyway, but he has practically climbed into Rem Dogg’s wheelchair, and. Well.

“Christ you two, keep it PG,” says Stephen.

Mitchell laughs, buries his face in Rem Dogg’s neck, embarrassed.

“This is all over facebook, innit?” he says.

“Yeah,” says Rem Dogg, his hand on the nape of Mitchell’s neck.

Mitchell shrugs.

“I was thinkin’ of changing my relationship status anyway.”

“Oh, did you break up with yer right hand?”

“Well you obviously didn’t, seein’ as you’re still a wanker.”

“Some things never change,” Chantelle says, leaning against Stephen.

And she’s right, because they’ll always fight, they’ll always poke fun at each other, but that doesn’t mean things won’t change. Maybe a kiss is like that tiny bit of DNA that makes everything different. Fuck, Mitchell’s getting so gay.

“You alright?” Rem Dogg asks.

“Yeah,” says Mitchell, “Yeah, I think I will be.”

And he kisses him again, because what’s the point of having rules if you can’t have an exception?


End file.
